


You Don't Really Have to Anymore

by orphan_account



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, M/M, Something close to Love, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A short story (a one-shot, I guess) that is a continuation of the other one, but can probably be read alone. I don't tell you what to doRocket learns to love a bit more. Also he invades the privacy of someone who expected that to happen, and it leads somewhere nice. Peter Quill is my favorite character, but in this story (also the other one) he's the second character, because I like writing from Rocket's point of view. And both of these beautiful characters deserve everything nice and wonderful.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters. And I can't stress it enough that these are characters, and two consenting beings of that. The comics are great and the movies are amazing (looking forward to GOTG2), but the actors in the movie have their own lives to deal with. Don't know why I said that, but I feel like, at least for myself, a reminder of that nature is important from time to time. Especially since that's probably in my future (ramble time for sad college acting students who love people they haven't met yet and characters they won't meet at all)
> 
> This is hopefully enough to make my readers feel better about the literal six-month gap between chapters in my last story. Thank you so much to all of you that commented and left kudos! Writing is a current hobby of mine, but the positivity really makes a difference.  
> Happy holidays!

Rocket pads across the captain’s quarters (heh, captain Quill) and picks up and empty bottle. The glass immediately drips out a healthy coating of sticky amber liquid over the fur on his paws. Recoiling, he tosses the bottle in the vague direction of the trash can, where it sinks into the bin with a satisfying clink. The raccoon throws his arm up in success which startles him. What possessed him to do that? He remembers the Terran doing the same thing a couple of days before, but it doesn’t seem to be his own style. Maybe he’s adopting some of Peter’s mannerisms.

Flark. They’re getting closer and closer. Yet, somehow, he’s okay with that. Plus, it was nice to share a room with someone again. Last night was the first time since Groot was huge that he’s been able to share with someone. And sharing it with Peter? Doubly nice. The guy was sorta fun to be around. Not like he’d tell the big idiot that kind of private information. Rocket still needs his secrets, otherwise he’ll go postal. Well, more postal than usual, anyway.

The Procyon flashes his gaze around the room, checking the scenery. It’s certainly cleaner than it was, but since he was part of the problem in recent times, he should probably make a bigger investment in maintaining it. The big spot where his pile of blankets goes is a sore spot, but what else is he gonna do, make his bed every time he wants to sleep? He’s not a neat freak or nothing. Looking at the way that the legendary Star-Lord treats his bedding makes him think that they share those opinions. As it is, he already has to make the bed again, since Quill took all of the fabric away to do something.

So, he can’t sleep, doesn’t really feel like cleaning all that much. What’s a guy to do around here?

Ah, got an idea. Snoop private details about the humie under the guise of “housekeeping.” Something he’s tried and tried again but has been interrupted every time. Very carefully, he grabs the trash can from the other side of the room, and brings it to the side of his bed. And with the sweeping motion of his arm, he cleans almost twenty separate articles, which once carried drinks, from a dozen planets across the galaxy. If it weren’t so disgusting, Rocket would make him a scrapbook or something. There. Now he’s technically helping him. Time for some fun.

Rocket looks over to the console area, which is largely unchanged. He looked through it recently (read: last night) so he could probably ignore that for now. Plus, it’s kinda boring. This stuff’s all out in the open, and the raccoon’s never been one to pay attention to obvious details. What’s he hiding? The small figure swishes his tail as he swivels to the bed, crouching to look underneath the metal frame. And is largely disappointed by what he finds. Literally just a bunch of garbage. Candy wrappers, a box of crackers that, sadly, have no contents, another can of soda from Xandar, and a magazine…. Wait. 

He reaches as far as he can, brushing the detritus out into the light. Rocket tosses all the garbage and throws the box of crackers as far as he can out the door, and picks up the magazine. It’s from Knowhere, a shitty mail order catalogue for illicit goods. Pictures of alien chicks wearing absolutely nothing are indiscriminately sprayed across the front page. The next page has holographic images of bizarre looking objects that claim to “greatly enhance pleasure” for only 3000 units each. And then some snapshots of very scary looking men with various…appendages and choice wording. It takes about three seconds for him to figure out two things: Peter picked this up there at a store, for free, while they were trying to hock the Infinity Stone, and hasn’t glanced at it since. But just to be sure, he flips through the pages really fast.

None of them are stuck together, and they all appear to be the same size.

Guess the big idiot clears his history.

The raccoon flings it back under there for Peter to deal with, and gets to his back feet. He leans onto the bedside table for support, finding that it serves that purpose despite not being connected to the floor or wall. He puts a lot of his crap in here, which means there might be secrets, too. Briefly he recalls looking through this yesterday, but it was more or less a passing glance. Now he wants to spend the time, ya know? Carefully, he slides open the drawer, stopping when he hears a creak. He whips his head around, but sees no one. He continues opening the drawer, and completes the action to find… socks.

Lots of socks. And a couple of pairs of underwear, all orange, crumpled up to the side. Most of the socks are mismatched, and none of them are balled up or folded correctly. Rocket has discovered his fellow guardian’s sock drawer. Yippee.

He motions to close it when he remembers that at one point, there were other objects in this container. At least worth a little sifting around.

He extends a paw carefully inside, scraping away the pieces of clothing, and a claw hits something hard. Jackpot. He grabs for the object, and pulls it out. A box, golden, covered with Terran writing (English), and has a picture of several concentric circles contained in a larger square. His translator matrix is beeping at him, asking for activation, but let’s be real, Rocket doesn’t care all that much for light reading. He flips the box over and finds a diagram of a Terran’s dick, along with more instructions covered with a sort of film. In the next panel the film is extended off of the erect penis of this disembodied figure, dripping with what appears to be come. Some weird contraceptive device, although it’s not form fitting like the ones they sell on Xandar. Pretty primitive.

He tosses that back into the drawer, and scrambles around for something else. A bottle that’s filled with lube (he remembers that one) a couple of weird bands of steel, some little slips of paper, a large imposing object, squares not unlike the picture on that box. Just a bunch of random stuff.

Back it up a bit. There was something else.   
He feels around for the bigger object and pulls it out into the open. It’s big, about as big around as his forearm, and pretty long, too. It’s vaguely cylindrical, but flares out at one end to form a sort of heart shaped outcropping. The coloring is brown, and has darker brown irregular stripes running down the breadth of it. Rocket hefts it up, feeling the heavy but still kind of soft structure of it. Something about the object isn’t quite clicking with him. It just doesn’t make sense.

This item is kinda… specific.

Almost phallic.

Flark. It is phallic.

It’s a dildo.

Disgusted, the raccoon drops the object to the floor, where it pathetically bounces a couple of centimeters off the fake wooden floor. Maybe the humie used the thing, maybe not, but no chances are to be taken. And the coloring? It looks just like his tail, down to the size of the rings. The damn thing is huge, too. But not to the point of being fake. Honestly, other than the pattern, the texture is realistic. And familiar. That same vein that runs down the side, the size, virtually perfectly matches Star-Lord's own penis. How does the Procyon know that? Up-close proof. He has an eye for detail, and a memory supplanted by his cybernetics.

Also ears. Faint footsteps resonate outside the open doorway. Panicking, Rocket grabs the dildo off of the floor, and shoves it underneath the remaining pillow on the bare mattress. He slams the drawer shut with his hip, and falls to his knees, picking up some garbage off the floor. And when Peter’s huge body comes through the door, dressed in his usual ravager garb and holding a massive amount of bedding, he doesn’t give Rocket a second glance. Nailed it.

“Hey, Rocket. Just finished some laundry.” So that’s what he was doing. Boring chores. The raccoon was getting happier by the second for not offering his assistance. “Huh. Usually the prison does that for me.” Peter smiles, curling up the left part of his face. Cute. And then he lets go of the clean sheets, where they hit the ground in a heap. Less cute. ”Yeah, but in this ship, we got ‘house-husband Quill’ doing all of the stupid chores, so every once in a while, pitch in instead of using your little paws for messing around with things.”

Rocket sees an opportunity and takes it, muttering under his breath while grabbing at one of the blankets in the pile. “What’s up?” The Terran asks, pursing his lip like he always does.   
“I said, looks like I’m not the only one who messes around with things.” He says, louder, and Quill shrugs in confusion. Rocket lays it all out on the table, reaching under the pillow for what he stashed there, saying “I found this in ya sock drawer.” And Peter has the gall to look completely neutral. “Yep. That’s where I put it.” His face is less than impassive. It’s apathetic. He doesn’t care.  
“You’re not mad at me or anythin’?”

He blinks, and chuckles a bit. “Look, Rocket. I know what you’re like. And I gave up on most of my secrets the second I left Earth for the first time. Besides, you’ve seen more of me than anyone else on this ship. I figured you earned a couple of pardons.” Rocket was anything but mollified.” Ya know what I’m like? What are you like? What… what’s this even used for?”  
Peter should be arrested for the sheer blankness of the gaze he turned on him. “When a mommy human and a daddy human love each other very much, the daddy gets aroused and his,”

“Uhpapapapapaah. No thank you, I know what that is.“ Rocket cuts off the deadpan “talk” the humie was delivering, his whiskers twitching. And the larger guardian rolls his eyes, snatching the thing from his arms. It probably looked comical with him, but now that Peter was holding it, well, the way a thing of that shape’s supposed to be held, it kinda looks…Hot.

Peter’s fake aimless stroking was starting to turn him on, his dick moving underneath the orange tracksuit. "Where, uhh, where did’ya get it? And how often do you, ya know, use it?” Peter was still jacking off the fake penis in his left hand, and hadn’t noticed how Rocket was reacting to the movement.

“I got it special ordered. Sort of as a joke at first, but, I guess I use it once in a while. Haven’t recently, not many chances to.” And he glances down at the raccoon, smiling a bit, but narrowing his eyes when he sees how flustered he is. Rocket isn’t usually like this, isn’t a headstrong type of person with relationships, but in the past few days? Things have gotten crazy as hell. So he lets the question that’s been festering in his mind, just sorta, fall out.

“Do ya, wanna, use it?” And flark, at every turn, the Procyon manages to disgust himself. Like a little school girl. He might as well turn on some shitty music to get the blood pumping, the situation already seems like one of the utterly countless vid files of illicit activities not ten feet from where he’s standing. And Peter raises an eyebrow at that, but after a second, his small smile returns.

And broadens into the sexy smirk that always annoys the hell out of the Guardians.

“Sure.”

He tosses the dildo on the bare mattress and unclasps the knapsack over his suit. It falls to the floor, the landing sending a small gust of air out. Next, he grabs the headphones around his neck, pulls out the Walkman and places it gently on the table. “What are you doing?” He asks the humie, because up to this point, he had been confused an awful lot by him.

“For a being with a genius-level intelligence, you ask some pretty stupid questions.” He retorts immediately, and with a smooth movement, he releases his magenta duster, where it twists in the air, almost gracefully landing near his closet. Oh. With a small wink, Peter grasps at the bottom of his grey thermal, and slides it up his torso, bringing out his right arm, his head, and then his left arm in one fluid motion. Rocket was now fully focused on his beautiful body, a lean, muscular torso with clear delineation of muscles, an outcropping of thin hair on his chest, and a trail of coarser brown hair leading down below his belt. Every movement that the Terran made was calm, sensual, and the way the light bounced off of his skin made Rocket’s cock swell even further.

“This doing anything for you, Rocky?” He goads with a gravelly voice, and underneath his striking blue-violet eyes, the hint of a blush added character to his dazzling face. “Uhnm, yeah, a little.” Rocket coughs back. And one of his paws drifts down to palm at the huge tent in his jumpsuit, which looks like an orange mountain compared to the rest. Anything to get some friction. The larger Guardian continues lower now, slowly unzipping his pants at the front, ghosting around the area with his long fingers, and pulls them down, leaning forward and looking the raccoon straight in the eyes. He pulls them off, over his boots, and underneath, nothing remains.

“You’re freeballing it right now?” Rocket contests, surprised. “Yep. Too lazy this morning. Plus, I kinda expected something like this.” And he stands up fully now, towering over the small figure in front of him, looking like freaking Adonis. From his bedraggled hair, the slight dusting over his face and neck, to all of his lines and joints and scars and marks. He was handsome in the way that a rainbow was colorful. He was gorgeous. And Rocket slides his gaze down, where his cock is just starting to get hard, hanging in front of his lopsided family jewels. And it’s already bigger than Rockets is, fully engorged and ready to do flark knows what. Even against the size of the testicles behind, it sticks out. The Procyon swallows some saliva, his mouth starting to water a bit. 

“So, are you going to join me?” Peter gestures to all of his stunning body, with the boots left like they are, but Rocket had already started to unzip his suit. He tries to do it sexy, but his fur is in the way, and when the zipper reaches his penis, he has to force the thing down against his right leg in order to continue. Satisfied it would hold its place, the raccoon looks up at Quill while he finishes up. The zipper reaches the end of its track, and when he brushes the material ever so slightly to the side, his flaming hot cock bounces out and slaps him right in the chest. He blinks a bit, but continues his gaze upward. Except, Peter’s blush has spread. He’s biting his lip, and his right hand is sliding down his abs at a slow pace. And his dick is very obviously growing, throbbing in fact, and with every passing heartbeat gets a bit bigger and higher up. “Guess I did alright. Huh.” Rocket smiles, flashing his teeth, and he gets to see that flustered, pent-up desire he feels through his body, reflected and magnified on Quills face. Wow, humans are expressive. “Uh huh.” He nods in agreement, and falls onto the mattress, reaching into the bedside drawer. While Rocket finishes pulling off his suit, he hears Peter sift through that same drawer, the noise only stopping when he finds what he was looking for. The raccoon steps up, tosses the clothing to the side, and stands with his arms at his side, his tail swishing in the background. 

“Shit, dude. You’re hot.” Quill exclaims, and breathes out a bit. He’s lying on the mattress, his legs spread out, and his cock saluting the space, his balls hanging below, heavy. And from this angle, Rocket can just make out what’s below it, his muscled ass pressed against the surface. The Procyon just sort of brushes against his own dick, sliding his fur against it, and the reaction is instantaneous. Peter’s dick spasms, and a drip of pre spills out the slit. It smells like Peter, like fresh snow and stardust, like musk and lust. And that vision went straight to his own cock, adding about 100 degrees of heat to boil in the area.

The Terran reaches down, lifting his balls up and sliding his body forward to lean at more of an incline. And he extends a finger to rub down the skin, drawing Rockets surveying eyes to a part of him he’s never seen before. A small area between the two sides of his ass, it gives way ever so gently when Peter rubs his finger pad on. The tight ring looked immaculate, a tan pink color, and incredibly small. But a snap of the bottle, a bit of liquid on his fingers, and a small touch, and the spot opens up, letting his finger in.

Rocket has elevated his brushing to full on stroking now, easing his hand down the shaft and up to the tip like he’s done a thousand times before, watching as Peter loses himself in the action. He adds a finger, and opens up the area even more, moaning quietly when the muscle adjusts to the intrusion. The hole is glistening, and stretching, and with his other hand, he delicately taps up his long shaft, then stops. The raccoon glances over as the human’s arm grasps at the dildo and picks it up, bringing it near his face. He watches as Peter scans the object and its pattern, then looks down where his tail matches. A twitch and the sizeable penis in front of him throbs, and thrusts forward. Rocket mimes the action with his own body.

He brings the dildo down, down between his legs, and presses the tip of it into his hole, grunting as it makes its way inside. Enamored by the sight, the raccoon stops his own movement and steps closer, even making it onto the bed to see. Another inch gets in, and now he’s amazed that something that size had been in him at one point. He, he wanted it again. Peter presses a little farther, and gasps out loud, his dick flinging upward and more salty fluid filling the air with his scent. Rocket climbs up higher, onto the larger Guardian’s torso, who at this point has stopped pushing and is clenching his jaw.   
“Usually I thrust it in and out, but right now I can’t last that long. Right now, uhn, the pressure is enough.” Rocket gets closer to his face, and kneels on his chest, his collarbones, with the raccoon’s tail brushing against Peter’s balls. He places a hand on his cheek, stroking the soft skin, and is about to lean down when a hand grabs him from behind, lifting him closer. “Hey, what’s the big deal?” He starts, but never finishes, as a warm heat envelops his dick.

His eyes roll back into his head for just a second, but in that second he sees the galaxy on his eyelids. The feeling of Peter’s mouth, his tongue, his soul and being, all bring him back. And he looks down, to see the Terran gently surrounding his cock with his mouth, his eyes dilated with lust and something else. Rocket nearly loses it right then and there, the sensation with the view combining, turning his whole body to mush. Quickly, he brushes against Peter’s ferociously moving hand with his tail. And against the shaft and the tip. And Quill actually loses it then, his body tensing up and his hips thrusting into his hand. Jets of cum land everywhere, and his eyes are closed in bliss, but he’s latched on to the Procyon now, fully inside. He’s not as big as him, but his dick still displaces a fair amount of space. And the humie hums, a low, melodic sound that vibrates along the length of him, sending him over the edge.

“Star-Lord, I’m gonna cum…” A few milliseconds of warning, and he shuts his eyes, thrusts forward, emptying himself on the cusp of the Terran’s lips. Pleasure rocks through his body and each pulse of his dick relieves months of built-up tension. After the last of it drips out, after the last spasm of ecstasy fills his body and mind, he opens his eyes again.

Quill is staring at him, his half-smile smirk bright on his face. His bright blue eyes are wide open, and the blush on his cheeks is only broken by, well, his cum. Rockets seed (there’s gotta be a better word for it) dribbles out from between his lips, is plastered all over the bottom of his face, and is even starting to run down his chin. That sends a last twitch through his spent cock, which drizzles a little more on his chest to pool in his jugular notch. 

“You called me Star-Lord.”

He sputter-laughs a bit, and Peter joins him, until without warning, he meets his lips against Rocket’s.

That same warmth, the wetness of his saliva, the sheer intimacy of their relationship sends shudders through the raccoons head. Even the slight taste of his own semen doesn’t diminish how he feels. They hold their positions for a few more glorious seconds, enjoying each other’s presence, and when Rocket reluctantly detaches, it’s only to say something that’s been on his mind for a while.

“I’m starting, ah, I’m beginning to think I care about you a little.” He says, turning his head down. Peter swallows, no doubt getting a bit of his cum down his throat, but he responds, “You took the words right out of my mouth, buddy.” He picks Rocket up gently, and places him on the floor. And gets up himself, standing tall with various fluids covering his body. The dildo lays on the bed, long since removed.

Silence.

“Hey, Rocky?”

The Procyon, who just now is feeling the sticky wetness of Peter’s cum along his tail, responds with a quiet growl. “What’s up.”

“I get kinda lonely in here. Can you spend the night again?”

Sure, Quill. “I’ll get the blankets ready later.”  
More silence pervades the area.

“I know it gets hot, but do y’ think, maybe, I don’t know…could you share the bed?”  
Rocket can’t stop the smile that comes with his question. “Might as well make it a regular thing. I like the warmth, anyways.” 

He looks up to see a genuine smile, the kind that fills the face. The half-smirk is pretty sexy on him, but this? This he could get used to.  
“Come on,” The humie says, ruffling the hair on his head. ”Let’s get cleaned up”

They exit the room together, Rocket’s soft footsteps masked by Peters boot stomps. “You know, I usually last longer with that thing. The situation caught up with me, and I had you there, and I wasn’t ready for all of the sensations. Maybe if I used it more?” Rocket walks in front of the idiot, and stops, looking up at his big beautiful body, to his face. And he laughs, the realest, most genuine laugh ever, for real.

“That’s the thing, Star-Lord. Ya don’t really have to anymore.”


End file.
